Seven | BTS ✓

5

The music is so loud that it's vibrating Namjoon's bones, but it only fuels the fire in his soul. The fire desperate to be quenched.

The women watching him dance are screaming his stage name and throwing money at him, some even tucking money into the waistband of his ripped jeans.

The sweat is dripping down his bare chest as the heavy bass booms in his ears. He bites on his bottom lip and keeps his eyes locked on the screaming women around him.

"That's right. Scream my name," he growls as he approaches one of the women.

"RM! Give me a lap dance!" she whines.

Namjoon chuckles as he straddles her lap and grinds against her, and he feels her shaking under him. She wants him. They all do.

The woman's hands roam down his chest and abdomen, eventually landing on the waistband of his jeans.

Namjoon smirks at her, eyes locked on hers as she nearly drips with need for him.

"Let's go somewhere more private," she whispers in his ear before softly biting his earlobe.

"That's against the rules, baby girl," he murmurs as his hand grips her hair harshly, forcing her head back so he can inhale her scent, burying his nose into the base of her neck.

"I don't follow rules," she softly moans as he bites down on her sensitive skin.

Warm hands slide down his back and when he glances back, he can't help but smirk when he sees a second woman staring down at the two of them, biting her bottom lip.

The neon lights on the stage dim down as the next performer takes their place, and Namjoon takes this moment of distraction to pull the two women into his dressing room.

"Naughty girls," he scolds, running his tongue across his bottom lip as he gently pushes them onto the leather couch in the middle of the room. "Touch each other while I think of how to punish you."

After they pay for his services, the two women leave the room, their legs still a bit shaky.

Namjoon lays on the couch after locking the door behind them, and he sighs heavily, resting with his hands behind his head.

The fire in his soul is tamed for now, but not extinguished. Never completely gone. Never completely satisfied.

He's lost count of how many women he's been with. How many women he's buried himself into, trying to feel something.

Something other than pure Lust.

He needs love. He craves it. But nobody loves him. He fucks them and then they leave. They always leave.

He knows that if he could just find love, then the fire would stop consuming him.

It disfigures his being. Numbing him to everything except the all-consuming devastation of his sin. He can't love. He can't be loved.

All he can do is act on his Lust, letting his body satisfy the carnal needs of the women who want him, and in turn, their Lust satisfies his for a moment.

A moment.

And then it comes back, burning as hot as ever, demanding to be fed.

Namjoon brings his left arm in front of his face, staring at his scar. His symbol. His sin.

He lets out another deep sigh, reaching for his phone on the small table next to the couch.

After dialing a number, he puts it on speaker and places his phone on his chest.

"Hello?" the voice answers.

"I just had a threesome," Namjoon says, sighing again. The fire has already sparked to life inside of him again.

The man on the other end is silent for a few moments. When he finally speaks, he sounds annoyed.

"If you called to brag, then kindly fuck off," he snaps.

"Sorry, Hoseok. I didn't mean to piss you off," he mumbles apologetically. "I just need to vent to someone."

"You called me to complain about having a threesome?" he asks, disbelief in his voice. "Were they that bad?"

"It was fine. Just not... enough."

Hoseok sighs. "It never is, Namjoon. Look, I need to go. Please take a shower before coming home. I don't want you to stink up our house again."

Namjoon scoffs. "Jealous."

Hoseok hangs up on him and he can't help the laugh that escapes his throat. Teasing Hoseok always cheers him up, and he never stays angry with him for very long. Unlike Jimin...

Namjoon shudders as he remembers the time Jimin found out he'd been having sex on their new couch.

That was twenty years ago, but he can still hear the impact of the frying pan against his skull. If he didn't have demonic healing powers, he would swear that he had brain damage. He's become so clumsy since then.

He's truly surprised he hasn't made their house implode somehow.

And every time he breaks something around the house, Jimin is there to remind him that this is what he deserves for him having to burn their new couch so many years ago.

"You should take a shower. You stink, Lust," a smooth voice glides in the air from behind him.

Namjoon shoots up from the couch and faces the woman who came out of nowhere.

"What did you call me?" he asks, staring at the woman watching him, her nose scrunched up. "Where did you come from?"

She relaxes her face and smirks at him, sending him a wink.

"Oh shit. I have a boner now."

She laughs before walking to the door, and he notices it's still locked.

"How did you get in here?" he asks, frowning.

"See you later, Lust."

And then she leaves.

Namjoon's phone rings, but he ignores it.